


From Ashes We Rise

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Family Bonding, Fluff, Global Destruction, Love, M/M, Multiverse, Post-Apocalypse, Thomas Wayne is Owlman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 13:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: It had been nearly a year since he'd returned to this decaying world that he'd once thought of as foreign – one that he now calledhome. A year since he'd stepped back into the cave and fallen into Talon's arms, had pressed himself against his comfort and warmth, and had opened himself to love and happiness. Even in the face of a world that was dying, crumbling to dust before them, he felt like he could face anything just so long as he had Thomas and this version of Dick at his side.





	From Ashes We Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "[To Dust We Crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7860691/chapters/17950147)". I found a few plot points I wanted to explore after a passage of some time. Really wanted to expand on Damian and Dick (Talon's) love for one another and to just show what happiness could do for Damian and the world if given a chance.  
> Beta: kate1zena

Damian sank back on his heels, one gloved hand on the edge of the crumbling building he had himself perched on top of. To say he was nervous was perhaps an understatement. 

It had been nearly a year since he'd returned to this decaying world that he'd once thought of as foreign – one that he now called _home_. A year since he'd stepped back into the cave and fallen into Talon's arms, had pressed himself against his comfort and warmth, and had opened himself to love and happiness. Even in the face of a world that was dying, crumbling to dust before them, he felt like he could face anything just so long as he had Thomas and this version of Dick at his side.

He swiped his tongue over his lips and looked off towards what was left of Blüdhaven, watching the dark cloud of toxic air roll in over the crater. Behind him his machine thrummed with life, rumbled in the fading darkness like a giant slumbering beast. 

Pushing himself up, he turned back toward the machine and Talon. "T-minus three and counting." He skirted around the big beast of a machine, his fingertips running over the gleaming side, down across the hatch to the control panel, which he popped open as he knelt in front of it. 

Talon shifted to stand behind him, one hand on his shoulder and Damian knew he was keeping watch on the cloud, would tell him when to put his rebreather in.

Somewhere deep inside, he was nervous – overly so – and he held the fear that everything could go sideways real damn quick if this thing didn't work how it was supposed to. There was a very real chance it'd take in toxic air and spit back out something even worse instead of cleaning it like it was supposed to. It wasn't as if he'd had a chance to test it until now. Here, on the outskirts of Gotham, in the slums that they'd cleared out months ago to herd people back into the better parts of town. 

... As if there were better parts.

He breathed in the last bit of clean air he could just before Talon's hand squeezed his shoulder. "Rebreather in." He heard Talon putting his own in, shifted and put his own in, carefully bringing the machine fully operational, inputting his command sequences and stepping back, watching the dark cloud of filth roll in. It creeped up over the building, rolling across the rooftop until it met the machine where it almost seemed to pause. Air swirled around them, the mix of putrid and fresh meeting and Damian braced himself inwardly for the worst. 

Talon's – _Dick's_ he reminded himself – arm curled around his middle, holding him back against him in a loving embrace Damian once thought he'd never have allowed someone to engage him in. 

It was difficult, at times, to think of Talon in any terms besides the name he'd forced himself into thinking of him by for nearly a year upon his first arrival here. Back when he hadn't wanted to get attached to this world's version of Dick Grayson. Back when he'd been upset and heartbroken. Back when he'd yearned for home, and far before he'd realized _this_ was where home truly was.

It didn't mean he felt anything less than he could have, only that his mind referred to him how he'd _learned_ him, how he'd learned to love him.

He eased his head back on Talon's shoulder, watched the air as it made lazy curls around the machine, as it seemed unable to pass the machine no matter what it did. A moment longer and then Talon was reaching past him, pressing the necessary buttons to bring it up to stage two and then pointing at the meters Damian had installed, telling them the toxicity readout hadn't gone up in the least on the output side of the machine. 

Damian watched as air began to be sucked into the machine, seemed to build a wall in front of it and then a bubble around it, including where they were standing within its grasp. It expanded outward until it stopped around the outskirts of the building, holding steady and Damian pulled out of Talon's embrace to crouch down and study all the various readouts he'd installed. Toxicity was lowering rapidly, oxygen was holding steady, and even the machine's emissions didn't move the needle from remaining buried firmly in the _clear_ zone. 

He looked up at Talon, slowly reached up and removed his rebreather, hesitating, shivering, and then taking in a slow lungful of air. _Nothing changed_. He didn't start to ache the way he did when they got stuck for a few seconds in the bad air. He didn't feel like air was being physically _ripped_ from his lungs. He took a deeper breath and could only smell the odd scent of _clean_ air. Something he'd almost forgotten.

Talon remained with his rebreather in, their agreement having been that Damian would take the sacrifice of his own machine, would chance it for a full five minutes, and then they'd expand the bubble to the final stage, one that would take in the air from a zone three times larger than it was now and clean it out and they'd retreat back to the cave and monitor it from afar overnight to see how it did.

Damian simply sat there alternating between looking at the gauges and looking up at Talon, allowing his mind to drift when he looked up at his lover like this. He was always struck with certain memories whenever he ended up on his knees in front of him. He thought of the second time they'd claimed one another, of how good Talon's mouth had felt, how he'd been utterly unable to stop himself from outright fucking Talon's mouth. How he'd understood what he felt by the time he was done, had come to _know_ it in the weeks after that. 

Talon gestured at the end of five minutes and Damian slipped his rebreather in, shifted, and keyed in stage three, closing the hatch and watching as the bubble expanded, the machine whirring away beside him loudly. It wasn't a quiet endeavor, but noise would be worth it if they could solve this. If he could save the world, who was to complain about the sound?

Standing up, he turned and headed for the edge of the building, pausing for a second to make sure Talon had his grappling gun out, something Damian had ended up with after his father's last quick visit. He'd taught Dick how to use them and since then it had been a gleeful race around the parts of the city that they had to get through faster. He shot his off, watched Talon's thunk beside his and then leapt from the rooftop, letting himself freefall for a few stories before catching. 

They rappelled the last few feet down off the opposing building and then darted off through the blackness together, the sound of one another's footfalls keeping them on track, their aim just as true as it always was.

\----

Almost an hour later they were safely tucked away in the cave, Damian already ditching pieces of his outfit on the computer terminal, Talon bringing up the feed of his machine on the top center monitor. The others held their usual city views and Damian watched the people preparing for the incoming cloud that swarmed around the bubble he'd created with his machine.

From here he could see the way the machine sucked in the bad air, see the carefully laid duct work that sucked in the bad air, actually see the good air shoving back against the bad as it spilled out the exit ducting. Leaning on his hands on the desk, he forced himself to look over the other screens in more detail, hitting his comm and waiting on it to sync with Thomas'. 

"Robin to Owlman." He heard the answering crackle across the line and then Thomas' rough, "Go ahead."

"Two blocks south there's a small girl outside without her rebreather on. She's playing with an old truck, I don't think she sees the incoming storm."

He heard Thomas' answering grunt, watched his tracker start to move and Damian gave a satisfied nod, muting his connection and watching the screen as Thomas dropped into the frame and got the girl to get her rebreather in and then picked her up and headed off after a brief conversation Damian couldn't hear. 

He'd gotten used to this brand of saving, to such wholesome _goodness_ once they'd started breeding such a thing out in the streets. 

Sure there was still the horrible parts, the parts Thomas attended to without either of them in the early hours of the evening. Damian _knew_ he killed, knew Dick had to as well at times, though he himself still refused no matter the case.

Months ago he'd finally sat down with them both, told them about the first ten years of his life, of who he'd been, what kind of evil he'd been bred to be; then he'd explained how that had changed, how his Dick and Tim and Bruce and Alfred had changed all that for him. How he'd taken such a burden on his shoulders and weighed it against his own soul, deemed his own punishment, his own atonement for his sins. Some part of him had expected it to change how they regarded him, but it hadn't. Rather they had both told him that when one was born into evil it was not true evil that gripped a child of that nature, but only the scope of the world they were born within. It was the mark of a good person that he'd learned how he was wrong, had taken it to heart and done what was needed to ensure he never became that again. 

Talon had whispered to him that night in their shared bedroom that he was a gentle soul. Guardian had hooted softly above them as if in affirmation and Damian had been helpless to argue with that. He'd been chosen by one of the few remaining animals as their number one favorite human _and_ he had Talon curled up next to him, holding him with such intense affection that it was palpable, it was foolish to argue. 

Dick settled beside him at the terminal, nearly hip-to-hip, and he leaned into the warmth of it, letting out a soft hum. Years ago, he would have laughed at himself, would have thought this sort of behavior pathetic and unwarranted. But now... _now_ he was a different person. He had changed the moment he'd let Talon into his life, knew on a deeper level that it was the best thing to ever happen to him.

He heard his mother box chirp and he shot it a perplexed look, straightening up and turning to look at the designated spot on the floor that both universes kept completely clear at all times so no one materialized halfway through a table or something equally as horrifying. 

Wally popped into existence and Damian opened his mouth to ask a question but a second later, his rebreather pouch was hanging open and Wally was _gone_.

Damian and Talon exchanged a confused look and Damian turned around to stare at the monitors, trying to decide where he'd go, what he could possibly want out there. An alarm beeped softly and Damian hit the proper button, bringing up the feed to the opposite side of his machine, watched it seemingly morph under Wally's touch, being rebuilt in a time that if he hadn't known what Wally could do would have shocked him.

A few more seconds and then Wally was gone, the air beside him swirling and then Wally was holding out his rebreather. "Had to borrow this. Hope you didn't mind."

Damian slowly took it back, studying him. "What was that?"

"A new part for it. Better than the specs you had drawn up – or," hesitation as if Wally knew he'd just been rude unintentionally, "more advanced. Tim, he – we all – looked over it and, well," hesitation again, only a dull fraction of a second for Wally but enough for Damian to perceive, "improved upon?"

Damian settled the rebreather back into its pouch. "He fixed something I missed, didn't he?"

"Not _missed_ precisely, but, well, more like," Wally stared at him hopelessly, looking defeated, "I don't know. I knew what to do not what was wrong. Or, well, not as right as it could be."

"How about," Damian actually found himself about to laugh and it baffled him for a second before he realized how long it'd been since he'd talked to Wally, "you just go get Tim and send his ass back here."

Wally held up one finger and then the mother box was chirping and Wally was gone. A few seconds and Tim stumbled into the circle, looking entirely confused and clutching the mother box like it was the damn holy grail.

He was wearing his suit but it was on haphazardly, like maybe he hadn't been wearing it before Wally got ahold of him. Damian _did_ laugh this time, shaking his head. "You've been _Flashed_."

Tim looked startled and then his mouth slowly opened as he realized Damian had made a joke. The look morphed into a grin as he stepped out of the circle, looking around, turning in a full circle, and then stopping in front of them. "B said it was pretty dim in here; I didn't honestly think it would be darker than ours."

"Yours." The correction was automatic and Damian cocked his head slightly, considered his correction, and then settled himself closer to Talon's side as if to prove a point. "So the machine...?"

"Ah, well, it would have broken down in a week. I stabilized some parts, rebuilt the design entirely on the main intake engine and it should be stable for a minimum of ten years. The rest... I found nothing lacking. You have improved vastly."

"I improved before I ever left," Damian pointed out, crossing his arms lightly over his chest. "We just never talked enough for it to be obvious." He gestured. "It's not as if I have study materials here."

Tim stared at him in a way that left Damian certain he was blinking at him behind his mask. "Are you _serious_? But you were the most education driven of all of us."

Damian shrugged. "You adapt to your surroundings. I've had years to find what I can offer in this environment, trust me."

Tim nodded, his attention shifting to Talon in a way that Damian completely understood. The desire to see, to know more, and the fact that Talon still had his mask on, was still prepared to rip back out into the night if he needed to left him a bit of a mystery.

From beside him, Talon offered an amused, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Tim almost choked and then he was lifting his hands to his mask, laughing as he removed it.

Damian could see the tired lines around his eyes, see how even a few years had left him weary, and he found an ache somewhere inside for that. Without fully being conscious of it, he reached out, grasped Tim's fingertips lightly as he studied him.

Tim glanced between Damian, their hands, and then Dick as he started to remove his mask and then back down to their hands, his face filled with confusion. 

Damian lightly squeezed his hand, letting go to let him focus on Talon, watching him study his lover in full curiosity until he was satisfied, gave a little nod and then offered up his hand. "Timothy Drake-Wayne." He glanced at Damian at that, as if waiting on a fit. When it didn't come he refocused on Talon, clasped hands with him.

"This world's version of Dick Grayson. I go by Talon."

"We... have Talons," Tim offered softly, his face back to confused.

"He's nothing like them, I promise." Damian pushed away from the computer bank, ghosting his hand over Tim's shoulders. "Stay a few. Update me on something interesting I might have a prayer of following tech-wise, and give poor Dick here the ninety question drill I know you want to give."

Tim huffed slightly, but followed when Damian led the way toward the back area where he'd insisted they set up a bit of a kitchenette since they spent most of their time down here and little of it upstairs. He set out some of the bread they'd managed and the few tomatoes that had been salvageable from a greenhouse that they'd found abandoned a few nights ago. 

They settled on their chairs and Damian tapped his comm. "Robin to Owlman, we are off camera duty for a few."

"Acknowledged." The line cut as quick as it had crackled on and Damian thought he knew what sort of cleanup duty Thomas was on if he'd been that short. He settled in his chair and truly studied Tim.

"Do me a favor... and I mean this truly, not as a jab. Take a week off when you get home. The world... it will wait. That world, it is not like this one."

Tim looked distressed for a moment but sighed and sat back, his arms crossing over his chest. "It's not over work if that helps you rest better at night."

"Truly, it won't." He waited Tim out, hoping his tactic was right, watching Tim sort of crumble his walls down and then hunch forward, pushing his hands through his hair. 

"Steph left me months ago, Kon's... _gone_ , Bart's been off-world for three weeks, and the rest of the Titans are _fighting_. I'm not cut out for that job, Damian... I'm just not."

Damian shifted, considering his options and then leaning forward, reaching for Tim's hand again and holding it lightly. "Look, I know we didn't get along back when I was home. Mostly, we just never cleared up the past. It's not like I hated you anymore, you know that right?"

Tim gave a little nod and Damian continued. "So I'm going to tell you this as bluntly as I can. Some people are not leaders, Tim. Some people are never meant to stand in front of a team and direct them. I know you want to give it your best shot, but you've always been like _me_. You find comfort in freedom, happiness in places no one else does. Solve the one problem you can out of those, figure out who _will_ lead that team like no one else ever could and then give it to them."

He watched Tim's throat bob as he swallowed, saw the pain in his eyes before he tucked it away, lifted his chin and nodded. "You're right. You always were."

Damian gestured somewhere behind him at the computer banks. "Clearly not always."

"There have been technological advancements you did not know about. Trust me, you did what you could with what you had."

"Compliments, coming from you." Damian let himself smile. "High praise."

Tim snorted and then refocused on Talon, clearly having had enough of the talk-about-Tim routine for now. "Parents?"

"Did not die the same way as your Dick's did. No high wires, just unfortunate placement during a bombing." There was a touch of remorse there, but nothing like he'd ever heard in the Dick's voice that he'd grown up with. 

"The crater that is Blüdhaven?" 

"I wasn't there if that's what you want to know, assuming from your Dick's placement on that one."

Tim nodded. "How did you come to be with Thomas?"

Dick smiled at that, his head tilting slightly. "Idiot stumbled into my damn apartment, passed right out on the floor from blood loss in a knife fight he decided to lose, and I decided to play nurse and patch him up. I _may_ be good at that."

"He is, trust me." Damian pushed his toe against Tim's shin, making him look up at him. "The scar on his face used to be really noticeable, but he can damn near play plastic surgeon without plastic surgery."

Tim looked a bit surprised, seemed to study the wound for a moment. "Interesting. I had a few minutes with the glove that Damian inadvertently brought back, but B thought too much time with it and I'd want to come here."

"Bastard took it away?"

Tim gave Damian a rueful look. "Not before I got most of the specs. Still... not all of them."

Talon got up, wandered off toward the back room and Damian watched him thoughtfully, wondered what he was going to do, and then smiled when he returned with a book in his possession. He slid it across the table to Tim. "The technology is in here. Bring Damian back four key textbooks to advance his learning and this is yours for as long as you need it."

"Done. How about a tablet and power source with a few hundred thousand books? May just sort of have that lying around."

Damian snorted. "You _lie_. You've been planning this trade. Just tell the truth, Drake."

Tim gave him a cheeky little grin and produced the tablet from the large pouch he had on his left side, sliding it and a cable and charger across the table. "Around five hundred hours of power in there. Need more just give it back and I'll juice it up for you."

"What the hell kind of power source did you create to do that?" Damian reached for it, pulling it all toward him.

"You'll know by the time you're done with the section marked Advancements in Power. If you don't you're not have the man I thought you were."

Damian gave him a look that he thought clearly stated _really?_ and settled his new found prize in front of him. "How did you know he was going to try to make that deal with you?"

"Didn't. Actually thought you might. Sort of surprised me there."

Damian clicked his tongue. "Take me for the child you once knew, hmm?"

Tim gave him a rueful little smile. "Not like I knew you that well back then either." He pushed himself up. "Time for me to go though or B will start to realize I'm here and not _there_ and well –" he shrugged helplessly. "You know B."

Damian's line crackled and he reached up, tapping the comm, already on his feet and headed back toward the computer bank before Thomas' voice ever came across the line. 

"Tell my son he is to visit on his birthday or there are two men who will be quite upset."

Damian huffed out a laugh, turning back to face Tim. "Unsurprisingly, Thomas has been listening to us and would like you to tell Father to visit on his birthday or some of us will be upset."

"That is not how I phrased it." The line crackled and Damian smiled to himself.

"It's how I did." He cut the line and considered Tim for a moment before offering his hand again. "Thank you. Truly."

Tim gave him a soft smile as he wandered back toward the circle on the floor. "Send me any designs you'd like and I'll go over them. I'm always here for you, regardless of world." He paused and gave Damian a sort of hesitant and pained look. "No one will tell me what came of my counterpart here. I suspect I already know and that, perhaps, you're the only one who might really tell me the truth." He stepped into the circle and retrieved his mother box. "He killed himself, didn't he? When I changed my mind... he didn't."

Damian pursed his lips, gave Tim a sad look. "There wasn't much in the way of help here, Tim. No medications, no therapy by then... just destruction."

Tim nodded, held the box to his chest along with his book. "I wish they all had the opportunities that I have, but it seems I'm the odd one out most of the time."

Damian could feel his eyebrows pulling together as he regarded Tim. "Most of the time?"

Tim let the corner of his lips lift into a smile that felt genuine enough. "This isn't my first world to visit besides my own. It is also not the first where I'm long gone."

Damian stepped into the circle, pulled Tim in for a quick hug and then stepped back out. "Then make an extra big effort to stay with us, okay?"

"I will always ask for help when I need it." Tim looked down at the mother box. "And I will take that week you suggested. Think I'll take this book with me somewhere nice."

Damian shifted to lean back against the computer desk. "Somewhere with sun. Just for me."

Tim gave him a bright smile, the truest of smiles so far, and breathed out, "Take me home, box."

He was gone in a second and Damian sort of deflated against the monitor bank. Seeing his family was always hard, trying to catch up with them and understand what had gone on, but this one had been more difficult, not having seen Tim at all since months before he'd come here the first time and then to be helped by him without reserve, without question... it left him wondering what he'd all missed in Tim's life, what all could have changed if he'd let himself get along with him for half a minute.

Talon slid his arms around Damian's waist, rested his head on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Learning materials both ways and – it would seem – a mending of old broken relationships."

Damian nodded, his hand moving to cover Talon's own, his ease quickly returning in his lover's arms. Just having them there was a balm for anything and everything. Had been from the very beginning. 

Turning his head, he reached up and caught Dick lightly behind the neck, drawing him in carefully for a kiss, sharing it until the comm beeped in his ear, a reminder that Thomas knew all without being so much as present, and he grinned against Talon's mouth. He nipped Talon's lower lip and let it go. "We're being summoned."

He watched the flash of something promising in Dick's eyes, returned it with an upturn of his chin, and got a grin for his efforts as Talon straightened and pulled on his mask and goggles again. "The city awaits."

"Just like every night," Damian murmured. What had once been a weight, a _fear_ was now a silent mantra, a reminder that what they were doing truly mattered here. That they were _something_ in this world.


End file.
